


the darkness is knocking at the window

by screechfox



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Reincarnation, Teencast, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2536124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screechfox/pseuds/screechfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martyn can't sleep. Which is rather understandable, given the weird dreams, inhuman physical changes, and the fact he's pretty sure the night-time wants to kill him. So, again, rather understandably, he calls up his boyfriend.</p><p>Half an hour and a sneak-out later, a guitarist and a half-alien climb in through the window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the darkness is knocking at the window

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Naniroxy's teencast rants. I also blame my rp buddies. Except not, because without that brainstorming session this fic would never have reached reality.
> 
> Also posted on equalityforflowers.

Martyn can't sleep.

 He keeps glancing up at the dark that seems to press against the windows to try and get to him, and his reassuring touches to his own body only serve to remind him of how that could very well be true. When he adjusts his hair, his fingers brush over pointed ears. When he hugs himself close to try and feel some measure of comfort, all he can see is the golden flush of his skin, alien in the dim lighting of his bedroom.

 He glances at the clock, as if doing that will make the night go faster, and his shivering (that's odd, he hadn't realised he was shivering) increases. ０２：４３ It's barely even close to dawn. He glances wistfully at his phone, fingers twitching as if to reach for the object, before he flops back in his bed. Still shivering, he makes to draw the soft covers over him - but then the phone buzzes loudly.

 He can't restrain the soft curse at the sudden noise, but he does restrain the one that would follow it when he realises he'd sworn in Minecraftian. One hand flops out to grab the phone haphazardly, and he squints against the glare of the sudden bright light. N-Jesus, that's bright. His sigh is audible in the tense silence of the room when, after a few swift finger movements, it's just a text from the network, some bollocks about offers.

 But now he's got the phone in his hand, and his thumb hovers over the contact called  _Guitarist Babe_ (directly above the one called  _Pretty Brown Eyes_ ). He tries to talk himself out of talking to the man this early in the morning, but he knows Parv's schedule like it's his own, and he'll probably be up right about now.

 Martyn takes a deep breath, and writes out a slow and careful text, mindful of the way his hands shake against the pad.

 ---

Are you up right now? I really need to talk to you.

I mean, I /really/ need to talk to you.

_hey im here bab whats up?_

_that's rlly ominous_

_have u broken smth?_

Can I call you? 

Please.

_yea sure thing_

\---

Martyn breathes a sigh of relief when the dial tone flickers into something real - a buzz in the background that tells him Parv is probably playing some video game, crashing in the studio he rents with his band when their part time jobs let them. The fact that Parv hasn't been speaking since before he even answered the phone makes it clear enough that he wants Martyn to speak first. He can't blame him, with the care Martyn took in making those texts readable.

"So--" The blond starts, cutting himself off when his voice sounds hoarse and shaking, even in that one syllable. He swallows audibly, taking a slow, deep breath in, mentally preparing himself, before he restarts.

"So, I'm kind of freaking out right now." Better, needs more detail. Something he's learnt about himself recently - he can be quite the critic when under stress.

"The dark's being weird at my window, I close my eyes and all I see is-- is Minecraftia." He pauses, biting his lip lightly and running his free hand through his hair again even though he knows exactly what he'll find underneath the layers of gold. True to form, he still shudders as he fiddles with the points on his ears. He hates them so much.

"I'm not  _human_ , Parv." Martyn doesn't quite know where that came from, but there's a sob bubbling up in his throat that he has to swallow suddenly. He hates that he's not human so much - that's all he's ever wanted to be, human and cheerful and planty and suddenly something has to stroll along and rip that away from him, and, oh look, he's crying. "F-fuck, I'm not human, P-P-- Alex. I've g-got gold blood and I grow plants out of my skin when I'm not concentrating, a-and--"

Parv cuts him off with a carefully measured tone, which is understandable - the brunet's not used to comforting, after all - and a detached part of Martyn realises that the video game has been turned off at some point. 

"Martyn, shh, shh, d'you want me to come over?" 

And that's it, that's all Martyn needed to hear, and he's babbling out a yes and Parv's replying - but he already feels so much safer that he doesn't really listen until the call clicks back into dial tone and he flops the phone back down to the nightstand.

\---

Problem 1, for Alex Parvis: His ever-so-lovely boyfriend was having about a million panic attacks because of the weird reincarnation / government experiment that at least three people in the class seemed to be going through.

Problem 2, for Alex Parvis: He wasn't there to comfort said boyfriend - at least, not physically - which means he needs to get there as soon as possible.

The final problem, for Alex Parvis: There's no easy way to get a ride across town at almost three in the morning. There are very few people that he knows who even  _have_  cars, let alone ones that'll be up this la--

And suddenly an idea strikes him, and it's a pretty damn good one if he does say so himself. He'd already mentioned something about it, but in his panicked state, Martyn probably hadn't processed it. But he runs through it once again, and then his hand is on his phone, typing as fast as he can to the contact known as  _Shaggy_  - otherwise known as the esteemed Will Strife.

\---

_need a lift to marty's pls bb_

**Your lack of respect for proper grammar never fails to astound me, Parvis.**

**Can't you keep your hands off of Martyn for two minutes?**

_y, u jelly? ;)_

_marty's panicking. minecraftia_

**I'm on my way.**

\---

Parv doesn't even stop to question how Strife's worked out where he is - not when he's being tugged into the shining but sleek small car the other male owns. Then the two are off, through the town incredibly quickly. There's a surprisingly tense silence between the two, and, boy, can Parv feel it. He can't quite summon up the usual banter, though, not when he's thinking about the sob that caught in Martyn's throat.

Strife's green eyes seem to glow (probably do) in the darkness, but Parv's suddenly managed to learn what tact is, so he keeps his mouth shut - pretending not to notice that Strife's noticed the way Parv is staring at his eyes in the car mirror.

It's a miracle neither of them remark on the sexual tension of the action - but then, Strife isn't an idiot, and Parv's happily monogamous right now.

After what seems like a few seconds, but also an age, they pull up in front of Martyn's house. The blond's face is obvious, peering out from the top window of the house in a mixture of panic and delight. Now that he's there, Parv can actually see what Martyn meant by the darkness being weird. It's almost curling around the window as if to try and rip it off, and Parv suddenly blinks to realise he's fallen into a fighting stance.

(How he's meant to fight a sentient lack of light, he doesn't know.)

But Strife has a solution, as he always does, and he pulls out a small torch from his pocket to wave it up at Martyn reassuringly. As Parv begins to traverse the roofs of the house, the blond slips the gadget away for a moment, and follows him, glancing up at the darkness almost grimly.

\---

Why Strife ever listens to Alex Parvis, he doesn't know. It's the other male's fault that Strife's currently brandishing a small torch at what appears to be a hissing black mass, while Parv attempts to get the stiff window open with Martyn's help.

The darkness is clearly losing its patience as the light of the small thing flickers and dies. The torch gives a little hum as it's battery runs out completely, and Strife discards it to the ground of the garden for now. All he can do is watch as the darkness rears back, as it rushes for him, and suddenly he's pulled into the room just in time, tumbling rather ungracefully onto the small boy who tugged him inside. Parv's slamming the window shut, and it's a wonder no one else wakes up in the house. Martyn's staring at the shut window with what looks like panic and relief. It's almost like the mass is trying to claw at it, and,  _okay_ , he can see why the other blond would be a little freaked out.

Speaking of said other blond, he doesn't look too good. Martyn's pale and shuddering, even as Parv pulls him up into a sitting position and holds him close. The guitarist whispers to Martyn, and Strife almost feels a pang of envy for the closeness they share (he's not blind, he can see the way Martyn looks a little more at ease as Parvis pulls him closer) but he shakes himself.

While Parv busies himself with tending to Martyn, Strife just checks that the window is shut as tight as can be. He doesn't expect the soft call of, "Will," that comes from a surprisingly tender Parv.

"Marty wants to cuddle." Parv explains, at Strife's questioning look. The smaller boy flushes golden, burying his head in the tattered band t-shirt that adorns Parv's chest. Strife waves a hand dismissively - and that's definitely not another little pang in his chest. 

"Fine, you two go cuddle and lovebird at each other, then." Is he meant to sleep on the floor or something? Is he just a ride? Strife's almost considering taking his chances with Seething Black Mass out there when a soft and shaky voice says,

"All three of us." It's so different to how the small boy usually sounds that it takes a few seconds for Will to process who speaks, and then he takes a closer look at Martyn. But the invitation's friendly, and neither of the two's gazes - Martyn's hidden by Parv's chest due to his increased flushing - show any sign of the  _lovey-doveyness_  they hold for each other, so Strife finds himself smiling and nodding.

"Sure," he starts, suddenly in unfamiliar territory. "Why not?"

\---

Why not, turns out to be that it's very hard to fit three people into a single bed. Martyn ends up with his back to Strife, as expected, but it's not in a cold way. Martyn is trying very much to make him welcome, and Will would appreciate it if he wasn't distracted by not falling off the bed. 

Meanwhile, Martyn nestles his head into Parv's chest, and it's so blindingly obvious that they've done that before that Strife almost feels like he's intruding - and that takes a lot. But then Parv levels him with a warm gaze as his hand strokes carefully through the small blond's hair, careful to avoid the ears, and Strife knows that he's meant to be there.

The boy looks so vulnerable - he's probably half-asleep by now, Strife realises later - and it's a little jarring to see when Martyn presents so cocky and defiant in school. It's all been drained away, to be replaced with exhaustion and mild defeatedness, but also comfort.

He shifts closer as the darkness rages outside, and feels Martyn shift into him slightly in turn. The smaller blond murmurs something unintelligble and curls up on himself slightly - nearly pushing Parv off the bed in the process. He's clearly thinking about something he'd rather not be, and Strife is lost for a moment.

"You're fine, Martyn." The soft and comforting murmur surprisingly comes from Parv's mouth, as the guitarist carefully positions himself back on the bed for the maximum amount of Martyn-comforting. "Everything's going to be just peachy."

Strife finds himself nodding in assent, wrapping his arms around Martyn. "We'll get this sorted, don't you fret." Parv jumps a little in his own surprise, but grins lazily and shifts to whisper something in Martyn's ear. The boy's clearly not  _entirely_  asleep by the way he flushes again, and giggles softly.

There's no real envy there this time, in Strife's head, and he just smiles. It's peaceful, exactly what he hadn't been expecting, even if Martyn occasionally tenses up and needs soft murmurs to calm him down.

For all his complaints, there's nowhere Strife would rather be right now. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at screechfoxes on Tumblr. Have a nice day!


End file.
